I write out the fantastical world
The world within my head
Where love never dies and ones dreams do come true
Where life simply is and death is a fear for the future
Where loyalty is ever present
Trust always near
But in this world I ignore, the world we all survive in,
Betrayal thrives and regret flourishes.
The hunger for more, never ending, never satisfying. We devour but never give.
For who wants to give love? Trust? Faith? Hope? When there is no promise of it being returned, when we are all so sure we'll find it thrown away or crumpled in a mess at our feet along with the shattered pieces of our once whole hearts.
We have no faith in the world to repay us.
But do you truly wish to be repayed?
Ofcourse.
How could a battered lover give more trust and faith to their abuser? Their tormentor?
How can the tormented still give, still feed, still thrive?
Because of the belief in possible acceptance. Possible relief from that torment, possible nourishing words of love and care.
We are all human. We thrive off love and happiness. The problem are the consequences, for how are you to know you are loved with out ever feeling hatred? To have faith with out being faithless? To hope in a time of hopelessness? We are human, we come with our perfection and flaws.
This world is perfectly imperfect, unlike the one in my head. Where it is imperfectly perfect, where wrongs always have the right reason, where love always has a happily ever after.
I am only human, how can I not hope for such a world in this hopeless one we've been given?
